Young National Trust Theatre
directed by Dot McCree
Back in 1976, I’d sailed out of full-time education into nine months of full-time employment. That would have been, and probably still is, unusual for a young actor. Many of them would have had their first experience of being on the dole when they left college. Even those who did manage to get an Equity card — required for professional work in those days — would not have expected their first contract to last as long as mine had done. To put it mildly, I had been fortunate. So it was scary when, in the spring of 1978, I joined the swollen ranks of jobless actors.
Initially, with no means of paying rent elsewhere, I stayed with my parents in Ilford, Essex. I knew I couldn’t linger there for long, but it was going to be impossible to set up on my own without getting another job. There was the option of temporary work, at an office perhaps, or on a shop floor. I really didn’t want to do that. I don’t know why. Loads of actors and musicians have to do it, from time to time. I was determined not to. Maybe it was naivety, or stubbornness. I had set my heart on theatre work, and theatre work alone. So I wrote loads of letters to repertory theatres and agents, and waited.
After about a fortnight, I got a call from Barbara, the secretary of the drama department in Hull. She said that someone had phoned up, asking if the department had anyone who could play for a music-hall. Perhaps because I’d played for a music-hall project while I was student, Barbara had thought of me. The person who had enquired was based at the Tamworth Arts Centre. This person turned out to be someone called Dot McCree.
The couple of weeks I spent in Tamworth were horrible. I won’t go into why. I couldn’t get out of there quick enough. I rang my university friend Tim, who was back with his parents in Leicestershire, and pleaded with him to come and rescue me. Bless him, he did. I breathed easy again as he drove me out of the town in his car.
Four years later, I was living in Derby. Somehow, Dot McCree tracked me down there. She had done well, having moved from the directorship of the Tamworth Arts Centre to a prestigious position at the National Trust. She was Director of Education, or some such title. She wanted to do a theatre-in-education project at one of the Trust’s properties, Quarry Bank Mill in Styal, Cheshire. The subject would be the story of the passing of the Ten Hours Act of 1847, which limited the horrendous exploitation by factory owners of working women and children to ten hours a day.
For various reasons, I had mixed feelings about taking the project on. What clinched it was that Dot was successful in applying for an Arts Council grant for me to compose the music. It remains the only time I ever received direct funding from state.
Notwithstanding my misgivings, the project worked out well in the end. Quarry Bank Mill was an interesting place to work in, and Dot had assembled a sweet and talented cast, which included another composer, Andrew Dixon. Our paths were to cross again….
